


The International Sheepdog Trials will not be televised

by goodnightfern (orphan_account)



Series: Edifying Discourses in Diverse Spirits [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Castiel is a dog, Cowboy Dean, Dog Breeder AU, Dog Jokes, M/M, No actual bestiality occurs, Professional dog breeders, References to Bestiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5719933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/goodnightfern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juliet is the finest, most well-trained Border Collie Crowley has seen in all of his years of breeding. The creme de la creme of the absolute pinnacle breed of dogs. She's gonna be a star.</p><p>But what the hell is a Catahoula doing at the International Sheepdog Trials?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The International Sheepdog Trials will not be televised

"Remember, Bela, if you leave the liver cookies out anywhere Alonso will eat them all. Make sure Opehlia gets her plushie every night - the pink unicorn, with the plastic bottle inside - or she'll whine all night. When you give Growley his daily brush, give him a rawhide chew or else you'll never be able to get his arse. Oh, and don't let Fitzcarraldo run around. Keep him on the leash while you're running the dogs, he just got out of hip surgery two weeks ago."

The smack of Bela's gum echoes in the foyer. With a perfectly manicured hand, she adjusts the ruffled hairpiece that completes her French maid uniform. "Sure, boss. Your little hell-hounds will be fine."

"Border collies," Crowley snaps. "And for God's sake, starch your pinafore. You're a professional."

"Go to hell. Oh wait, we're already here."

Crowley's a little nervous about leaving her with his precious children. But he's been breeding the finest Border Collies in the world for decades, the absolute creme de la creme, the pinnacle of doggy intelligence, and his Juliet is going to win the $3,000 grand prize on _Herder Wars_. For the first time, the International Sheepdog Trials have been picked up by TLC. This is Juliet's big chance to become an international superstar.

Juliet sits primly at his side, the picture of perfection. Rhinestones on her purple collar gleam between her silky black-and-white waves. Even the tacky service dog apron looks graceful on her - it was the only way he could get her in first class. God forbid Juliet should ever enter a crate. The leash is bad enough, but there was no getting around it.

"Right, then. I suppose, we'll just - be on our way." Not without saying good-bye to all of the dogs first. Crowley kisses furry foreheads and scratches ears, holding back tears. Two weeks seems like an eternity. "You won't forget me, will you, Alonso?" he whispers fervently. Alonso licks him the eye. He stands back and looks at his pride and joy. Ophelia is heavily pregnant, the next generation of herding geniuses in her belly. His heart swells with pride. "Daddy's going to miss you so, so much."

"What about me?" Bela asks, preening.

"Oh, bugger off."

The limo delivers them to the airport just in time. Juliet whines a bit when the plane takes off, but she's doing admirably. All of the other passengers in first class are awestruck by her beauty. Too blinding for them to even look at her. Crowley pats her head, and she rests her head on his knee. Bloody plane doesn't have Laphroaig, but considering he's flying all the way to bloody America, Crowley supposes he'll have to get used to roughing it.

* * *

 

There's roughing it, and then there's slumming it in the absolute gutters of degeneracy.

"That's not even a true hound, it's a bloody cur!"

It's the first day of the Sheepdog Trials - _Herder Wars_ , whatever. Camera crews are everywhere, filming the arrival of the contestants. Crowley stares in horror at four grunting pigs, corralled by a Catahoula - not even a real breed, honestly, and led by a man on a great black horse. One cameraman in particular has chosen to focus on his reaction. "And what are a pack of hogs doing at the damn Sheepdog Trials!" he screams to the cameraman. "Don't film me, film Juliet. Juliet, darling, look sharp."

"Aw, hell, what's this?" a deep voice calls from above.

The man on the horse reins up, grinning at Crowley. "Howdy, darlin'. Dean Winchester, a'chur service. Now what's all this shoutin' about?" With a flourish he takes off his cowboy hat. God, but he's - hideous, absolutely hideous with that chiseled jawline, those bright green eyes. It takes a moment for Crowley to recover from the shock, but he draws himself up indignantly and points at the cur.

"I believe these are the Sheepdog Trials, sir," he snarls. "Hog-herding curs have no place here! You realize those aren't even recognized as a breed?"

"Hell, pardner, this here's Herder Wars. International Sheepdog Trials done sold out! All bets are off, an' all breeds are welcome. Cas here's the best damn hog-herder in all of Texas." The dog yips, blue eyes slightly unfocused. "Ain't that right, boy? Whose Daddy's little angel?"

"God - get back, Juliet!"

Juliet guiltily looks up from sniffing Cas the Catahoula's butt.

"My, you's got yourself a pretty one right thar, I tell you h'what. Whassat, Australian Shepherd?"

"She's a Border Collie, you lout." Crowley says, bristling. "The finest, most intelligent breed in existence. I suppose your lot wouldn't know of them. Come along, Juliet."

"Don't be like that, sugar!" Dean calls after him. Cas barks. God, Crowley needs a drink.

In his first confessional Crowley siezes the opportunity to rant. "The International Sheepdog Trials are a disgrace," he huffs, pointing at the camera. "My Juliet is far above the level of any of these mangy mutts! Catahoulas, for the love of Christ! This is noting but a farce for television ratings. Well, get ready America - Juliet, please, darling, look at the camera for Daddy - because we are going to crush the competition. To the ground! That little pissant swineherd Dean Winchester will be begging for mercy by the time we're done here. Mark my words. Isn't that right, Juliet? No, sweetie, the camera. Yes. Yes, Daddy loves you. There's a good girl."

Juliet's warm doggy kiss fills him with confidence. He's got to focus. Dean Winchester and his low-bred, untrained mutt have nothing on them.

 

* * *

 

"Come by, Juliet!"

"G'wan, Cas! You git 'em!"

"God," Crowley mutters, flicking a glance at Dean in the other corral. Gliding in a perfect arc, Juliet rounds the four sheep. They cluster together, baa-ing, but not afraid. "Walk on," he calls, and Juliet stalks towards the sheep, herding them towards the shed. Cas is sprinting circles around the hogs, legs kicking up clods of grass.Grudgingly he has to admit Cas isn't... terrible. Somehow he's beaten every other dog to make it to this final match. The other dogs today couldn't hold a candle to Juliet.

It's close, but Juliet gets the sheep secured in the pen .5 seconds faster than Cas.

"N'aww, Cas, don't you worry yer little head," Dean croons, scratching him behind the ears. "Damn fine dog y'got there," he nods.

A gracious loser. Crowley's victory cheer dies in this throat.

"Daaamn fine," Dean adds. Leering, his eyes trawl up and down Crowley's form. "Mebbe we can, uh, trade some trainin' secrets when all this hullaballoo is over, mmhmm."

Is Dean Winchester... flirting with him? No. Crowley could never sink to such a level.

The next trial is out in the field. It's all backwards. Trust reality TV producers to cock the whole competition up. Juliet seems surprised to have to immediately get the sheep out of the shed, but she adjusts well. Brave girl, still working with her remarkable efficiency despite the clusterfuck of cameras and sound mikes. Crowley switches to whistle commands, showing off Juliet's sensitivity to each note. Dean shoves two knuckles in his mouth and lets out a series of toneless screeches.... yet as if by magic Cas can tell the difference between each one.

Dean Winchester's cowboy boots are... distracting. Crowley shakes it off. Focus on Juliet.

Of course Juliet wins, but the victory is hollow. He wanted to see Dean break, but the man simply shakes his hand and gives him a slow, sexy wink. "I think some celebration is in order, pardner," he drawls.

"I-it's only the second day, we haven't w-won yet." Curse his stammering, Crowley stares at the man's pink and blue plaid rather than face those devastating eyes.

"Yer Julie and my Cas seem to be gettin' along," Dean notes. The dogs form a yin-yang of noses in butts. Tail wagging, Cas leaps, and Juliet jumps after him."So how 'bout it? My trailer or yours?"

As the dogs frolic about, Crowley gazes into jade-green eyes and sees everything he wants. After all, he can't doubt Juliet's impeccable taste. "Mine. I've got the Laphroaig, and I'd hate to see what you drink."

Just the tip of Dean's tongue licking his lips is enough to make Crowley hard.

* * *

 

  
Of course, Cas waits until Crowley is balls-deep in Dean before licking his ass. Of fucking course.

Juliet comes in second place. Apparently Cas has more 'personality'.

"She's just well-trained," Crowley sobs in his final camera confessional. "She's a working dog! When she's on the job, that's all she does! She's got plenty of personality - don't you, darling?" As if on cue, Juliet gives a happy yip and licks his ear. "These trials are a sham! The International Sheepdog Trials - oh, I'm sorry, _Herder Wars_ \- are a parody of what they once were and a disgrace to the profession of breeding and every last one of you can fuck right off." Right, that won't make it to primetime. Crowley loses himself in her soft fluff. Later that night, Dean helps him feel a lot better - even if he sure is a sore loser the next morning.

* * *

  
Defeated but not depressed, Crowley makes it back home. After the doggy kisses and licks and snide remarks from Bela, he locks himself in his bedroom. Turns on his computer. With the dogs, of course. You don't have as many dogs as he's had for so long without them catching you masturbating a few times. His dogs are good, anyways. Unlike Cas, who probably licks Dean's dick whenever he tries to jerk off.

The blue Skype icon blinks at the bottom of the screen.

Dean's wearing the cowboy hat, and he's already got his dick out.

"Hello, darling," Crowley says. "Can you just - hello Cas, wouldn't you rather go on and find a nice chewie toy?"

"Nawww," Dean drawls. "Cas here likes to watch."

 

 

"

**Author's Note:**

> what is this? it is [this](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/)


End file.
